Monsters in Paris, Sometimes
by j0ss
Summary: He was made entirely on accident. She was created with a purpose, but some eccentric scientists decided it wasn't enough to make them all famous. Now, after they severely messed up, she has to run for her life from said scientists, deal with her new changes, and try not to kill anybody. Simple enough, except for one giant flea and his hectic family.
1. Somewhere in England

Chapter One: Somewhere in England

The scratch of pen marks fills the room as the professor studies the colossal set of files set before him. From monotonous student reports to applications for new interns and staff, these papers took up all surface space in the lab and his mind. The success of his creations in Paris should have helped the scientist make his mark on the world. He didn't belong in some stingy, over-the-top facility among pompous researchers who think they're "professional" for writing down every single time the spiders breathed or even passed gas.

The old man sighs as he stands up and begins his trek to the lower level for the nightly report on trial 23. He recalls in his mind the argument he had with one of his superiors. Really, he was the man behind this whole idea in the first place, thus he should be down in the labs instead of 'monitoring progress' from a distance. The sacrifices he makes to have a full staff and funding are starting to take their toll he thinks. The professor reaches his destination and goes to open the door when he notices the cracks in the small glass window. He peeks through to find the room shrouded in darkness and smoke. Putting his sleeve to his mouth, he opens the door and calls out for the workers.

"Anybody here?" He scans the large room for any figures and signs of danger. From the corner of his eye, he sees something rush past the opposite table. "Wait! I'm here to help. Are you hurt?" He goes to take a step towards them, but stops when he hears someone whisper frantically to him.

"C-closethedoor, close the door, CLOSE THE DOOR! DONT LET IT GET OUT!" Before he could react, the dark figure he was approaching hunches and runs him down. Falling on his back, the professor strains to see the door slam open and the end of a white lab coat slip out of the room. A man with broken lenses stumbles to reach the door and goes after it. As the smoke settles, the room reveals broken equipment and scattered researchers across the floor. The professor examines them to find all of them alive, but only a few conscious. He helps one of the men sit up and asks him what happened.

"I—…we were just… we developed our own experiment and something went wrong, I don't know what but the whole thing just went up in flames and I found myself on the ground."

Another man continues, "It was the ingredients, we tried to create our own serums like you, sir, been planning this for a long time. The proportions were wrong. We made a horrible mistake."

"We grew something."

"Something horrible."

"It's not what we thought it would be"

"It was supposed to stay small, stay a —," The man with the broken lenses returns with a grim face, heavily breathing, and sits himself at a desk. Ignoring the bombardment of questions from his peers, he takes a pencil and paper to sketch out something. Finally, when the professor has had enough, he demands a clear answer about the whole event. The man at the desk sighs and holds up the sheet.

"This. This is what we created, what ran out the door, _what got away_." The old man is speechless and can only stare blankly at the drawing.

"We have to find her." The rest of the men nod in agreement, then exit the room with some carrying the injured out the door. After the last man gets a good look at the paper on the desk, it is left behind. A picture of a tall, young woman with sharp features and long dark hair stares up at the ceiling.


	2. Predators

Chapter 2: Predators

Golden brown eyes swing back and forth across the street, feet padding on the pavement as she keeps moving forward. She feels nothing but the sense of danger as the brutal wind numbs her burning, aching legs. _Cold_. Cold is something she's not too familiar with, so when her mind catches up with her body, it cripples her stance and she falls onto the ground. The loud creature that was once at her heels is nowhere to be seen, but it is what she _is_ seeing that distracts her. The world looks so much bigger, so unfamiliar. And her body, It's not hers anymore. It looks more like it belongs to one of the things that fed and watched her. But it moves to her actions, a little shakily now that the high of adrenaline has faded. The wind howls and she is reminded of the state she's in. This body is weak, with no protection against the elements.

She looks around the street and is lured in by the glowing warmth trailing from a doorway. A high pitched ring sounds off as she enters but pays no mind and tries to sit in the nearest dark corner. From a small stage, a man with shoulder-length, curly hair holding a guitar stops his strumming to take in the sight before him. His stare stalls on the end of the coat that barely reaches an inch down her thighs the color of rich coffee. He stands up and steps off the stage, blocking her path. Blank eyes take in the half-smile he displays for her and she tilts her head curiously.

"My, my, quite the dress you got there. What brings you here, besides refuge from the night?" Not understanding a word he said, she tries hissing at him to show she wanted to be left alone. It always worked on the other spiders after the creatures returned her to them, but it seemed these things didn't think like her for he only moved his head back to smile even wider.

"Woah. I was only trying to be friendly, that's no way to treat a man being nice. I'll forget about it if you join me, just for one song? Come on." He takes her hand and leads her up the steps, into the blinding light shining down on the center of the stage. From here, she notes how the room seems smaller than the one she was kept in. There were round tables filling the open space, with some along the wall and lights hanging down from the ceiling. One long tabled engulfed the left side with strange glasses littering its surface. The inhabitants of the bar stop sulking in their drinks to look at the newcomer on stage. Some of them whistle appreciatively to the view while others simply stare and go back to their own thoughts. The man on stage takes a seat on a stool, picking up his guitar and moves his mouth to the mic.

"Quiet please. My lovely friend has joined me here today, because I have a very special piece I'd like to perform tonight." He moves back to look down at his instrument and positions his hands to begin. Once he's found the rhythm, he turns his gaze toward the girl who is too captivated with the guitar to take notice.

"_I remember feeling so cold in my core, but that was long ago. _

_In the before. No light to lead the way or tell the time of day._

_Lost my map, I was going in circles. _

_Oh, what a life I strayed." _

Some of those words she recognized and she looked up to his face, which was looking pointedly at her mis-buttoned coat. He glanced up and made eye contact, a grin returning to his face, making her feel strangely uneasy. The sense of danger clouded her mind again, but she couldn't see why. She was warm, inside a place with no bigger predators to chase her away. She was the same size as this thing, even a little taller, and it showed no signs to attack her. The next words he sung though caught her attention.

"_Gazed at a figure so dreary, she looked so small and helpless. _

_Help a lost soul, maybe get some more than I was looking for. _

_Together we could find the light._

_I want to hold that heat, and never let it go free. _

_Lock it in my heart, close the door to hide this star from the dark._

_Keep her here, with me_

_I want to keep her here, with me." _

And with those last notes, she felt frozen on the spot with fear. Those men in the room. They kept shouting, advancing on her, after her. _Close the door….lock….keep it here….don't let it escape, close the door_. No, she did not want to be in a box again. Cramped, cornered, and watched by predators. That's what they all were. Her glassy eyes lift up to lock with his expecting ones. He reaches a hand out to grab her by the waist, bending them both forward for a bow. His hold on her tightens more once they begin walking down the steps, out a door she had not noticed before. They stand face-to-face in a hallway with one way leading to the kitchen, the other into an office next to a staircase and an exit.

"Look, I know we just met and I introduced you as my friend out there, but it looks better when I have someone to sing to, especially someone as divine as you," he pauses to rake his eyes up and down her figure, "these moronic men don't appreciate a good musician such as myself, but I am…_familiar_ with women. How soft you all are," he steps closer, "delicate," she feels her back hit the wall and he continues, "just what it is you want."

He grabs her arms before she could think of lifting them to push him away. She struggles in his grasp while he breathes into her neck, opening his mouth to speak then is stopped by a large hand on his shoulder. The curly haired man is thrown onto the ground, banging his head on the wall on his way down. The woman gasps in air, trembling once she processes how close she was to being, well, she didn't understand what the man was after but she was still afraid. The man on the ground groans and slowly gets up to find himself back face first to the floor by one powerful kick. A large, bulky man with spots of white and dark gray hair looks down on him, scowling. His face wrinkles up in disgust at the sight before him, but softens when he turns toward the still shaking woman.

"Miss," his deep rumbling voice immediately calms her nerves, "you alright?" She simply steps behind him and down the hall to get far away from the musician while still being able to view the confrontation. The bulky man turns back to her attacker and roars at him, "How dare you defile this poor lady?! She was fightin' you for God's sake! Have you no shame?"

The man on the ground releases a quiet, breathy chuckle at that and receives another kick to the side. He groans again and says, "well I figured that's what she wanted, just look at her _attire_. If she wasn't here to find a man, then please tell me what she came to a bar for while dressed like that." He grins a cocky smile which earns him a fist in the face. Blood drips from his mouth and nose. The larger man leaves without gracing that statement with an answer.

He walks down the corridor to stand a good distance from the woman. He smiles gently to her and asks, "I wager you'd want some warmer clothes, hm? My wife could help fix you up. We live just down the street. Here," he shrugs off his brown worn out coat to place it on her shoulders, effectively covering her down to her knees, "that should help just for a bit. What d'you say?"

His smile is different than the other man's. It makes the skin around his eyes crinkle and the crooked teeth of his mouth make him less menacing. In this moment, she doesn't understand this feeling that makes her heartbeat calm and senses clear away, leaving something open and inviting. She smiles back at him, one that reaches to her sparkling eyes. "I take that as a yes?" he nods questioningly and she nods back, "Okay. Well, if you will follow me please." They walk out the door down the hallway and onto the street with the lamplights shining a bit brighter than when she had first seen them. Later, the girl would realize this is where trust was born in her. The first time she felt really safe after feeling overwhelmed with fear and confusion. She hates those two things more than anything. Except, that man with the guitar. Horrible instrument.


	3. Our Friends in Paris

Chapter 3: Our Friends in Paris

The light pitter patter of rain thrums in the background as a figure in a dark coat meanders through the streets of Paris. And by meandering, he is jumping from rooftop to rooftop carrying an object shielded from the water with a cloth. He finally hops down into an alleyway, up the steps and rings a bell of a doorway, signaling the woman inside of his arrival. The door swings open, a young woman in a white dress and angel wings looks at him with a scolding look, but steps aside to let him through. Francoeur sheds his coat to go dress for the night's performance while giving Lucille an apology chirp and smile. He unwraps the cloth to give to her, asking silently with the gesture if she could deliver this to their dear friend.

She rolls her eyes, "Well, you've gone through A-LL that trouble for him, without him even asking too, making us late. Now, let's see if it was REally worth it," she finishes and snatches the item from his grasp. He chirps at her in warning to be careful with it, looks at her apologetically once more and goes into his dressing room. She sighs then makes her way to the dinning area.

In the back, two men are seated at a table with various metallic objects and papers littering the surface. The tall, beanpole man fiddles with the tools and a metal box that sits comfortably in the palm of his hand; meanwhile, his shorter companion looks frantically from paper to paper with a notepad at the ready. When the two men notice Lucille's presence, they both put down their work and greet her.

She hums in response, "Raoul, it seems someone HAS been paying attention to your insufferable complaining about finding those parts for Catherine." She gently hands him the part and he grins excitedly.

"Alright! That only leaves, what, like 14 more things on my list. We will be conquering these streets again in no time. Say thanks to the big guy for me, I'll be sure to catch him after the show."

_"_Of course," she replies curtly and leaves immediately without so much as a second glance. The two men look at each other questioningly and Emile asks, "She's…upset?"

"Yeah."

"But why?"

"No idea."

"Hmmm."

"Oh, you've got your thinking face on, figure it out?"

_"_Maybe."

"Well? Out with it man."

"The show was supposed to start ten minutes ago, right? But I haven't seen Francoeur anywhere. He was probably out getting you that piece without telling Lucille. She's not mad at you _exactly_, just the thing and why it's here."

Raoul grasps his chin in his hands and thinks over his friend's theory. He then lays back with a sigh and responds, "Yeah, Francoeur has a habit of doing nice things at wrong times. No way she'll be upset over this for long; although, we're going to have to have a talk with him about this soon enough." Both men take a moment to relax from their work before diving back in, but with less fever than before.

"Raoul?"

"Yeah man?"

"Do you think he'll be okay for the trip?" Raoul pauses to look at his companion, "I mean that, if he's adjusted to his new life that he won't be stressed or uncomfortable and y'know get into trouble? On accident of course!" Emile looks down at the end of his fumbling inquiry in shame for even doubting their friend.

Raoul smiles warmly and leans forward, "Hey," Emile looks up, "he'll be fine. He's got us: the caring, fierce mama bear, Lucille; a _dashing_ inventor with the greatest people skills in all of Paris; sweet Maud with her soft voice and amazing stories; and the most caring, smartest, little filmmaker." He pointedly looks to Emile at the last part, making him feel better about the whole thing.

"Yes, we're here for him like he's here for us." The lights go down as the curtains on stage are pulled out. The show starts with Francoeur doing a solo bit on the guitar. His favorite, the one that helped start this new life. The two men put off their work to enjoy their friend's performance. One still holds doubts in his heart even as he watches Francoeur play with such delicacy and precision. Will the four of them really be able to control such a large creature? What if it's not about physical control, what if they can't help him understand something like humans do and he breaks down? Will they lose him again? He quickly excuses himself to get some air before his concern shows on his face. Outside, the air is a refreshing splash of cold on his clammy skin. It's quiet out, as if the world has come to a stop for the small man to relax and collect his thoughts. He knows deep down that he was only picking on Francoeur because he was afraid and wanted to back out of the trip altogether. But he could do this, it was time for his life to change for the better, hopefully. Steeling himself, Emile smooths out his coat and returns to the table. Reassurances float through his mind, giving him confidence. He is going to do this, no excuses. He was going to put his heart on the line and hope it'll reel in happiness. It was time he proposed to Maud, properly, like in both of their dreams.


	4. Flaw in the Camouflage

Chapter 4: Flaw in the Camouflage

The cozy little house sat suitably in center of a long line of homes. Each house was made up of varying shades of gray bricks, giving them a more natural look than the building the woman was so used to. She'd only seen the outside two times; on the way in and when she turned back to look at the man chasing her on the way out. A happy hum escaped her throat as she walked contentedly, realizing how quickly she seems to be picking up on these words the _men_ speak. The pair stop at the door so the man could open it and allows her to pass first while calling out to his wife, asking her to enter the living area.

The woman in question steps out dressed in a dark spotted blue dress and a tinted cream apron. She wore her brown hair up in a bun, with strands sticking out here and there. A pair of glasses sat on the bridge of her nose, small wrinkles decorating her face in a way that hinted wisdom more so than age.

"Hun, I thought you were out with Harold? I di- Oh my!" Both women stare at each other wide-eyed, the younger quickly hiding behind the man again from having been surprised by the other's outburst.

"Martha, this young lady was being harassed by Ben's boy."

"Oh lord, not another," she hurries over to the girl to get a good look, assessing any damage, "Come on dear. Let's, umm, clean you up and find something for you to put on. You must be freezing." Martha takes the girl's hands in her and gently leads her down a small hall to a small bedroom. She releases her hands to rummage through a dresser sitting beside the bed. The young girl surveys the room, taking interest in the pictures hanging on the left wall. One held the man and woman, with less gray hair and wrinkles, in an outside setting. Another has them holding a small…thing. A baby! Right, she'd seen a picture of these things from one of the men of the cold room, he'd said it was his little baby girl. Maybe this room is hers, it's small enough. Then, where is she?

A heap of fabric was being placed in her arms as her eyes returned to this Martha woman. "Let's hope these will do, we can adjust it if need to," she sighs then smiles lightly, "The brown shade of the dress there really compliments your skin. Do you like this dress? I have others if you don't." The girl unravels the fabric sitting on the top of the pile and nods her acceptance. It would fit and she would not be so cold, what else did she need? They go back into the hallway and into the bathroom. The woman leaves and quickly returns with a small box filled with various colors of threads and needles. She takes a towel to dowse it with water from the sink.

"I hate to ask you this, but I should really know what Ivan did to you. Are you hurt? Where are you hurting? Do we need a doctor?" Martha continued asking for information in hopes that the girl would respond or give some hint of what she went through that night. Nothing, she only stared blankly at the floor, clearly confused. That confusion turned into a small amount of anger and she huffed in frustration. For a moment, the old woman thought the worse by those actions until the girl looked back up at her and tilted her head with a grimace. Poor girl must not know english then. A lost foreigner.

"Okay, okay, then just point to where he touched you," she spoke and communicated with her hands the message across. The girl took a few seconds to understand, but when she did she just tapped her arms and neck. The old woman breathed a sigh of relief, "Oh, good. Looks like my Frank found the two of you just in time." Martha hands over the towel to the girl to pick up the brown dress and begins cutting it down to her slim form. The girl's eyes watch and she leans forward as the woman gracefully weaves the needle through the dress. Neither spare a word in the comfortable atmosphere. The young woman still can't seem to identify the flow of emotions seemingly lifting and drowning her inside. The other simply lets the, much appreciated, warm return of happiness caress her aging heart.

"Aha! There we go. This should do, once you put this on, I can stitch the loose ends so it'll fit perfectly. Now, off with that ratty thing. You need to dress like a proper young lady," and with that she points to the coat and scowls. The girl looks down at herself, then back up to vigorously shake her head, stepping back until her elbow hit the wall. She hisses at the pain, but promptly stomps when she hears a gasp from the old woman. Her heart nearly stops.

"Careful dear! You'll bang yourself up even more," both women sigh, "if you really don't want to change in front of me that's absolutely alright. I'll step outside until you're decent, just knock for me to make adjustments." The door clicks close behind her as the girl lays each piece of clothing out on the floor. She guesses by size and shape where and what order to use them, saving the brown dress for last. Tentatively, the white article falls to the floor and the girl glares at what she was afraid to see.

_Oh, Oh lord! _

_That's disgusting. _

_Get that, that thing restrained! _

Jutting out from her bottom ribs, four small appendages fold inward and curl further, keeping the sharp ends from becoming noticeable under the coat's fabric. She concentrates hard, but still finds them to be unaccessible for use. They refuse to unfold to show their full form. The only piece of her old self is still attached to her, and she can't even feel them. She brushes her hand against the black hairs lining along her spider arms, the softest shiver running down them. Well, that's better than before. A dark, bluish-black shade encompasses the arms and an inch around them. That's different. After one last look, she rushes to dress in the new clothes in case the old woman decides to see what's keeping her.

Her hand goes to open the door then stops. She looks back to the box sitting on the counter, taking one of the needles in hand. She pricks her finger on the sharp end and pulls away, remembering how the old woman used it. Such a familiar skill.

After a couple of minutes, the bathroom door creaks open again. The soft sound of footsteps drawing nearer brings Martha to attention, "Uh, ma'am? I thought I told you to knock, what…" The silent girl stands smiling in her brown dress. It goes down just above the ankles, with a soft pink line going across the waist like a belt, accenting the curve of her hips since it hanged a bit loosely on her figure. The material is soft to the touch, but strong enough to capture the warmth escaping her body. The sleeves stretch down to her elbows, with the cuffs at the end folded back neatly. The cut around the neck leaves just the edge of her collarbone in plain view. The old woman smiles with her, "Darling, you look wonderful! What fine stitch work, is this what you do?" The girl nods her response, the two skill sets were practically the same. Well, in a way.

The ladies continue to chat along, okay so one was signing with her hands, as if they were good friends together for tea instead of a molestation victim and her savior. Frankford joins them about an hour later. They spend a good portion of the night listening to stories of his workshop and Martha's old tailoring job. With each passing word and visual explanations from the couple, the young woman picks up more and more of their language. The chemicals seem have taken effect, exceedingly so.


	5. Traveling

Chapter 5: Traveling

The boat rocked dangerously from side to side, sailing across the onslaught of waves. Dark clouds loomed overhead, the passengers huddling close together for safety from the ocean's biting winds.

"Ah! All ye' kids are 'fraid of a good storm, huh?," the boat's captain mocks, "Pfft! We'll be to shore before the full brunt of it hits. Just don't stand too close to the edge, ya hear? Ahahaha!" Lucille gives Francoeur's hand a reassuring squeeze after the captain's words elicit an alarmed chirp from him. He gives her a weary smile, but still can't quell the fear growing inside him. Since that day that the ex-comissioner whats-his-name had tried to hunt him down by the water, he's had trouble traveling by boat. Raoul also feels uneasy. He could still picture his sweet Catherine sinking down below, air bubbles escaping her interior as if she were calling out to him for help. He whimpers quietly, Maud lightly touching his arm to calm him down and he returns a grateful smile. She then leaves to join the two performers singing a soothing song to distract those suffering with them on the rickety boat. Raoul takes the opportunity to drag Emile to the side.

"Wha-"

"So how are you gonna do it?"

"Uh…I already told you I can't say."

"Is that because you think I'd ruin it or because you don't know yet?"

"It's one of those."

"Uh huh?"

"The second one."

"Emiiile! You're running out of time! We are literally half way through the plan and you don't have an ending for it!"

"I know, I know! But everything I come up with is impractical or I don't have the confidence for it. This has got to be perfect, way better than writing her a letter."

"Hey…that was a good idea."

"Not for this."

"Just let the love expert give you a hand. You know when Raoul is on the prowl—"

"yeah, I know, the cats purr or something like that. But-"

"They meow."

"FOCUS."

"Always am."

"I appreciate your offer for suggestions, but this has to be all me. It's not the same if someone tells me what I should do. It has to speak from the heart."

"You old sap… Ow!" Raoul rubs at his side where the small man punched him. His lips frown then curl back up as he catches Emile's gaze set on his beloved. They both wave at the rest of the group, Raoul leaning down to whisper one last thing to his friend.

"You two are perfect together. Whatever you decide to do, just trust me when I say she'll love it."

"Thanks. And good luck with Lucille. Remind her to relax a bit." Raoul lets out a small chuckle, heading over to sit next to said woman. She turns to give him a peck on the cheek before finishing up the impromptu song. Then, she busies herself with recording the lyrics into her journal while everyone else sits in peace.

The sky seems to have lighten up, spots of blue peaking out ever so slightly. Maud and Emile engage themselves in conversation about the places they already visited and what they want to see. The mechanic scribbles new inventions for his delivery truck in his manual, calculating the cost of parts needed for them. Not that he would really keep that in mind when reconstructing his baby.

Francoeur just flips through his scrap book filled with clippings from newspapers, magazine pictures, posters, family photos, and the occasional film paper with scenes from his favorite movies, provided by Emile. He stops on a page about Charles, laughing inwardly at one with the monkey chasing after Raoul for drenching him in paint. It's not like he meant to, his clumsiness was to blame, but the man asked for it after he had made a joke about 'adding some color' to the bland primate's character. The next one was of the lanky man with a hand-shaped blue mark slapped across his face. The flea sighs, missing his companion greatly. It was always helpful to have someone else that couldn't speak, he always understood him and could explain things precisely when others could not. He knows he could always write down what he's trying to say like Charles, but it was difficult and he just wasn't as fast.

He wonders what it would be like to meet someone like him, not a giant flea per say, but a person that isn't quite up to speed with the humans. Who is curious, always trying something new, and not weighed down by many thoughts. He sings his heart out in every song because it frees him in his mind. Lucille also relishes the moments on stage, but he can't help but feel that it's different. She's more refined and lively in a controlled sense. Raoul may have more of that unweighted joy, but he is closed off in his interests, the only thing intriguing him is the scientific and technological world. And women. Emile is very open-minded and understanding, the only thing bothering him is the man's devotion to Maud who is too calm at times for his liking, leaving him little time to spend with the big guy.

The two are incredibly sweet together, but the sight of them always leaves a deep pang in his heart. He learned a long time ago that he could never have what those two do. Not unless the professor decides to make another giant, singing flea. Although, even then, there could be a chance that they wouldn't be compatible. He's still not sure which parts about him are truly his own or if they derive from the colorful beakers. It would be best not to take such a risk.

But poor Francoeur, the universe has already decided against him to take that risk. Even if she's not exactly what he imagined.


	6. Too Curious

Chapter 6: Too Curious

Sunshine crept under and past the curtains on the windowsill, scurrying to surprise the slumbering young woman. Groaning lightly, so as to not disturb the sleeping couple a few doors down, she reluctantly unveiled herself from underneath the white sheets of the small bed. What an exciting night it had been. New body, new world, new people, new dangers, new feelings…she felt a little dizzy and decided to sit back down. Right now was not the time to think about how one day became the next, it was about surviving the present. But that just became infinitely easier, hadn't it? Although, she knows almost nothing about this new body, its weaknesses, strengths, and needs. More talking with the nice man and woman would help. Good plan, now to wait for someone to come get her.

Boredom quickly made its way into the room. The room! She hadn't had enough time to expect it when the two women first came in here, and exhaustion had knocked her out as soon as she landed on the soft bedding. It really wasn't as small as she thought. The furniture was just her size, she could wander a couple of feet with plenty of space to spare. There was an uncomfortable thrum in her head as she began rummaging through all the drawers, but she ignored it as she continued to disregard any respect for privacy of this family's lives. Again, she felt confused and wanted to smother it out with answers to her burning questions.

For the most part, the drawers were filled with more clothes and the occasional balls of tangled up thread. She went back to the photographs on the wall, looking for insight on the couple's life. Upon further inspection, the girl realizes that the man and woman are in only three of the ten frames on the wall. The focus seems to be on a girl with bright hair and dark eyes wearing several dresses at various ages. In the last one, she is in a long white dress with some fabric on her head. She is a beautiful young woman, an angelic figure standing beside a young man with equal features. They're smiling, the essence of happiness and it makes the woman in the room dizzy. Her heart constricts, breathing quickens, and she nearly collapses on the floor had it not been for a dainty hand that reached out for her.

"Oh, heavens! Fra-a-ank! Help! Quick!," The elderly couple lead the young woman down the hall to the kitchen table. Frank steadies her by the arm while Martha fetches water. The woman is heaving like she had been punched in the chest and doesn't seem to have calmed down at all.

"You're alright, take deep breaths, but not so fast," Frank soothes softly. He puts a reassuring hand on her back as she slowly takes his advice. Once Martha returns with the water and a towel, the girl is okay and takes the water.

"I'm glad you're alright, sweetie. Almost died of fright seeing you looking so ill"

"See! I knew that boy did sum' tin to her! We've got to tell the law or maybe his father! Or I'll march right on up to their door and give the boy what's comin' to him myself! I- I'd-"

"N-no"

"I-, what?"

"…no." The room was silent as all occupants were baffled by the speaker, including the speaker herself. She ran her fingers lightly over her throat, her voice was raspy and quiet. The pleading look in her eyes stopped Frank from arguing, so Martha took this as an opening to speak.

"I saw you looking at the wedding photograph of our daughter," she paused in case the girl gave a reply but she did not, "I'm not sure why it bothered you, and I don't want to cause you any more grief by explaining it to us. We don't have to talk about this anymore if you don't want to." After a moment, the girl spoke.

"Where is she?"

"P-pardon?"

"You're… daughter."

The husband and wife locked eyes, feeling unsure but ultimately deciding that there was no harm in answering honestly. After a deep sigh and weak smile, Martha shakily spoke.

"Sh-she, ahem, moved on some years ago."

"She was prone to sickness as a little girl," Frank continued for her, "and couldn't fight it that time. We are thankful she was able to start a family, do what she dreamed, and had her own life."

"Our angel, Macy's her name, loved to travel. She'd always hop on the train when she could, saved every penny for it. We miss her with all our hearts, but I bet she's happy where she is, soaring in the heavens. That's how she looked when we last saw her, the perfect picture of serenity."

"That's beautiful," the woman whispered almost to herself.

"Hm?"

"What you said about her, 'the perfect picture of serenity.'"

"Oh, um, thank you." The three sat there at the table, hands in their lap or on the surface of the smooth wood. The town outside was busy on the chilly week day, an occasional automobile would pass by, its gears cranking loudly. The elderly woman rose up from her chair to prepare their meal while Frank set about preparing his tools for the workday. From the kitchen, Martha calls out gently to the girl to help her set the table. They haven't even mentioned the night before, or when their guest would be leaving, but the couple proceeds with their daily routine anyway as if having a stranger waltz in the night before was completely ordinary. What a strange pair these two make. But then again, their guest doesn't exactly understand what ordinary is either. She's just content to be alive with nice humans; although, after the morning's discovery she feels that she has overstayed her welcome. A slither of guilt anchors into her mind for asking about something so private. Tragedy is hard enough without nosey beings forcing wounds back open if only for a peak inside. If it hadn't been for Martha's trained, calm response, the girl would have left right away. Only till tomorrow evening will she stay.


	7. The Monster Magnet

Chapter 7: The Monster Magnet

Lucille really should've been more on top of things for the trip. Like keeping up with everyone's schedules. Otherwise, she wouldn't be sitting alone at the inn, suitcases thrown about in her room because no one had time to concern over their belongings before their appointments. True, she had thrown her things aside to meet up with an American pianist at a theater across town, but at least she returned in time for their planned dinner.

"How could I trust Raoul with Francoeur?," she huffed. Of course the easily excitable duo would get distracted without her, they're like children! Well, she did consider the giant flea as her responsibility much like a son, but she's taught him better than this. And what of the 'divine' couple? Really, she expected more from those two. They could be anywhere at this time.

Several more hours passed, she took the fall of night as a sign that her friends have forgotten all about her. She exchanged her elegantly extravagant dress for a brown blouse, a jacket with shoulder pads, and dark pencil skirt gifted to her by the American. The innkeeper recommended a small family restaurant a few streets away, guiding her to the streets with the most lights and patrol men wandering around in case she found herself in trouble. The woman also lent her a scarf and hat and she was right in doing so because there was a bitterly cold wind pushing her back the moment she stepped out. Securing the scarf tighter around her face, Lucille headed for the restaurant, intent on enjoying the peace of an undisturbed community.

The peace can only be kept for so long. A few blocks away, something awakens inside a young woman and it looks for a certain curly haired musician. Fates help him if she finds him with his guitar, "That **wretched** instrument," she spits. Loud thumps and crashing alarm the members of the home who rush to the room only to find furniture thrown about, the window smashed, and the girl gone.

…

"Umm, maybe we should go this way."

"Didn't we pass those buildings already?"

"Oh, uh, maybe, I-I-I'm not entirely sure."

"Emi-lle?"

"Yes dear?"

"I think we should get help."

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"Do you remember the name of the inn?"

"Oh, uhhh um, hmmm, no."

"Neither do I."

"Wait, we could ask for directions to the plaza we passed before the inn and figure out our way from there."

"Oh, Emille, you're always full of good ideas," she beamed and pecked him on the cheek. He blushed brightly as he held her hand and they walked toward one of the patrolling officers.

"Uhm, do you remember the name of the plaza?," The couple was silent until they simultaneously sighed in exasperation. What a long night it would be.

…

The deep notes resonated through his shell into his very core. It was exhilarating and the sound of the grand organ never grew old to him. His plan to explore the old church was quickly abandoned as soon as the clergyman allowed him access to the ancient instrument. There was a small crowd of elders surrounding the building, some listening quietly and others kneeling at the altar in prayer. The arches and sculptures were absolutely magnificent, they're what attracted him to the church in the first place. He saw pictures of it in a traveler's journal, but it is breathtaking in person.

He thought absently to himself about thanking Raoul for charming the church members for this tour and all. But he couldn't help thinking that the man had alternative motives for it. He hasn't yet returned since he sat him at the organ and bid him a quick good bye. Something about meeting someone and car parts. He wasn't entirely focused on conversation at the time. It wasn't until one of the church goers invited him to dinner that he began to worry. How much time had passed? Shouldn't they be meeting up with their friends by now? He tried the best he could to politely decline and quickly escaped the building, fumbling here and there in his haste, thoroughly embarrassing himself. Well, he couldn't visit there again. Now to find that fluffy haired man.

Half an hour later, Francoeur really shouldn't have been surprised when he was greeted with the blaring sound of a car horn, truck horn actually, and the waving hand of his friend from the drivers seat. What a long drive it will be.

With Raoul driving, actually not.

…

"Thank you. It was a lovely meal, have a nice night," Lucille waved good bye to the waiter. Before the door closed he called out to her.

"Bye! You be careful out there!" The door slammed behind her from the piercing wind. She walked under the lamplights, nodding to any policemen that she passed. The Inn was nearly in view when she heard men shouting and turned to see the patrolling men run around the corner and down a dimly lit street. The singer followed carefully behind, peering behind the corner of a building, fearing she might know the culprit of the mess. But it couldn't be.

There was more stomping, whistle blowing, then screams accompanied by men being thrown into the air. They came crashing down far away from the now pitch black street. At some point, the lights were ripped from the sides of buildings and the ground. On reflex, Lucille ducked away from one of the light posts thrown her way. She had to step away from the building and found herself out in the middle of the street, no place to run from the tall figure peering at her from the shadows.

It had her friend's height, but its eyes were a menacing dark red, bordering on black. Somehow, the dark color seemed to glow, it was hypnotizing. She stumbled backwards, tripping on her own feet in fear, landing on the cold stone. It hunched down, looming over her but keeping a great distance between them. There was a sickening slap of its mouth opening and closing rapidly, saliva dripping from what looked like fangs. A small whimper escaped from the woman shivering on the ground and in an instant the figure was back down the dark street.

It continued to stare at her, but its eyes lost their ominous glow. After a minute, it blinked and its dark eyes lightened into gold irises with red pupils. It looked more curious than frightening, so she stood up. She noticed how thin its frame was. It seemed so much bigger before. The creature turned its head and looked past her before it spreads its arms out and crawled up to the roof of a store. Lucille tried to keep it in sight, but it jumped from rooftops too fast for her to follow. She turned to see more men running from behind her. Her heart beat loudly in her ears and she became hyper aware of what transpired. In a panic, she hid in the shadows and waited for the men to pass her before she sprinted to the inn. Her hair was disheveled and she was gasping for breathe when she made it inside.

The woman at the desk frantically looked her over and asked her questions a mile a minute, but Lucille couldn't hear her. It was like she was underwater, all sounds were clouded and distant. There were more voices now, but she was still lost in shock. Like a ghost separated from time, she slowly walked to her room, disconnected from the people desperately trying to grab her attention. It took a chirp that sounded too close to a shriek to wake her. Francoeur was at her side, eyes blown wide in concern. He looked so scared. She let herself be enveloped in his arms, she whispered reassuringly to him that she was unharmed.

"I'm okay, Francoeur. I'm okay. I'm o-kay," her voice became wobbled and strained. Tears quietly slid down her cheeks as she took in the worried faces of her friends. Maud gently pried Lucille away and lead her to their room for much needed rest. Lucille promised to explain what happened in the morning. The friends slept uneasily with heavy hearts.

Out on the streets, the creature dragged itself into a closed shop, clutching onto a black jacket. There were men outside calling out orders in search of it, but they never think to peer inside the faded window of the closed workshop. Long, spiked arms retract and shrink into useless stumps as the creature disappeared, leaving behind a woman in a tattered dress. She slipped into the jacket for warmth. There was a large amount of bills and coins in the pockets, so she removed and left them on the table at the front. Her body shook violently on the grown until she blacked out into a dreamless sleep.


	8. Aftermath

Chapter 8: Aftermath

The lack of conscious witnesses really made it hard for reporters and officers to make a statement on the assaults. Nine policemen injured and five more present at the scene, but none could say who exactly they were fighting and how many there were. There was a man left beaten to a bloody pulp, barely breathing, in an alleyway. There were splinters of wood embedded in his hands from an instrument he had on hand. Reporters guessed he was the first victim that attracted the attention of the others. A bar owner confirmed that it was his son in the alley, he had left work early that night for reasons unknown. He also said the young man had asked for a great deal of cash and never explained why. Suspicion arose that he participated in shady business and got into trouble. His father argues that he was robbed and the policemen were useless for help. Of course, they were all wrong. But the news still made headlines across towns and caught the attention of a group of scientists at a university. The main director sent a small group to investigate the event, in case their mistake was to blame.

…

"Okay! Okay! I forgive you all! Stop worrying, you're making me nervous," Lucille shouted over the speedy voices of her friends. They were surrounding her from every angle, making her lean back in her chair from the lack of personal space. She had spent a hectic morning explaining to all what she saw yesterday, which did nothing to easy their worrying. Raoul in particular freaked out when she got to the part about its fangs. The guilt of leaving Lucille on her own increased in all their minds by the end of her recounting.

At the woman's outburst, they all stepped away. Emile began pacing around the room, mumbling to himself while lost in thought. Francoeur was chittering and hissing at Raoul in an argument, neither bringing up the fact that the man somehow procured a truck from nowhere. Francoeur would bring it up if he could, but no amount of gesturing would be able to translate this fact. Maud simply sat by Lucille, holding her hand before she shouted to the men.

"Hey! Lucille said to stop making her nervous. So you decide to fight and panic?," they all stared blankly at her, stilling their movements. "Okay," she continued, "maybe it would be a good idea to get some water," Raoul and Francoeur nodded mindlessly and headed out the door, "Oh, and some breakfast too?," she asked with sweet, pleading eyes to Emile.

He smiled sheepishly, "of course. You two just rest here and I'll make sure the guys don't get into trouble. I get to be mama bear Lucille today."

"Mama bear me? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, um, nothing!," he added quickly. He rushed out of the room, mumbling to himself, "Raoul, even when you're not here.." The two women were left there looking quizzically at one another. Maud shrugged, then walked over to her bag to take out a stack of papers. She opened one to reveal a finely detailed map of the area. Lucille listened intently to Maud's story about being lost for hours in the large town with Emile. She was happy for a distraction.

…

It felt like every inch of her body was pulsating and she withered in pain. The smallest movement made her scream mentally in agony. She whimpered as she tried to turn herself over to face the ceiling, her eyes remained screwed shut. The sun hung loosely in the sky, showering the land in hues of gold. Thin rays of light entered the workshop, beckoning her to rise. She groaned loudly at the thought, hoping to stay on the stone ground for a few more hours.

Her thinking was soon shattered by the sound of keys jingling. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as a shock of fear ran through her, giving her the strength to leap up and throw herself over a work table to hide. The person at the front entered at a sluggish pace. From her view, she could see the man's face and inwardly sighed. It was Frankford. She watched him grab various items and after several trips to a vehicle outside, the man was done gathering supplies. He seemed different. There was no smile that reached his eyes or bounce in his step.

She crawled out once the man was done, frowning deeply. Judging from the materials he gathered, she guessed he must've planned to fix the guest room she destroyed the night before. Her head sank into her lap as she replayed the night's events through her mind, still feeling both pain and numbness in her limbs in a strange combination. There was darkness, then a sense of strength, of power that awoke her and she found herself staring at a woman lying frozen in terror. She could smell the fear radiating from her. It was when her mouth began to water at the scent that her body returned to her control. She fled before any more damage was done. The image of Ivan, beaten and bloody, was still fresh and clear. A scene best left in the past. But she could not deny the satisfaction and thrill she felt at the memory. His screams were beautiful, a true masterpiece of music to her ears. No, she didn't feel that way. It was a horrible thing to do. An inhuman thing.

The woman rushed out of the shop through the small window she entered. The jacket was pulled tightly to her face as she ran down the streets to Martha and Frank's home. There were things that needed fixing. She could not leave the generous couple in a state of grief. Not again.

…

He stepped on his own feet many times, but the grin on his face never left. He was too enamored by Lucille's laugh and radiant self. He wished for a moment that he had the grace that his large friend possessed. The flea moved swiftly with style, attracting the attention of a crowd of young women. That was until he noticed the way his friend continued to move swiftly and he realized what he was trying to do. Raoul chuckled lightly and excused himself for a moment. He walked over to Francoeur, placing an arm around him and turned to the girls that were chasing the poor guy across the bar.

"Sorry ladies, but my friend has important duties he must tend to. Isn't that right big guy?" Francoeur nodded eagerly at his friend and shrugged as if he couldn't help being called away.

There was a collective "Aww," in response as the women pouted.

"But can't he stay for one more song? To dance with me?," one woman pleaded in a sickening sweet tone.

"No! Dance with me!"

"No, me!"

"Me!"

The women shoved at one another and clawed their way to the two men. They grabbed at Francoeur, throwing him this way and that. He swayed in all directions, dizziness clouding his brain. At some point, Raoul was yanked away and tossed out of the group, missing one of his gloves. In an act of stubbornness, he jumped back into the mob. This time, he pulled his friend out by the hand and they escaped to the safety of Lucille's arms. She rolled her eyes and called out to their other friends to leave since it was pretty late. It was a nice walk, the moon shone down at them making the night feel magical. It was definitely better than the one before.

…

It was confusing to say the least. There was a gaping hole in the room, they saw it not more than an hour ago, and it was gone. Fixed up. Not only that, the furniture was also repaired and put back exactly where they had been for fourteen years. Someone was in their house, but nothing seemed to be taken. Martha checked the room three times. The police officers wouldn't have done a thing like this. There was no time to sacrifice any man power when there was a dangerous criminal attacking innocent citizens. Possibly innocent. Those men left hours ago.

They could only stare blankly and wonder if the past two days had really happened or did they imagine it? Had their grief hit a peak? The couple sat down on the bed, thinking to themselves. It was strange. They had stayed far away from this room for so long. It was nice to see their little girl's smiling face on the wall, past memories coming to surface. It was a wonderful life with her, however brief that life was. Their Macy couldn't have grown into a better woman. The two smiled at each other, one so genuine it made the woman watching from outside feel happy tears roll down her cheeks. She wiped at them gently, looking at them curiously. She thought humans only cried when they were sad. Interesting.


	9. Decisions

Chapter 9: Decisions

"The Sandmen strike again. Five more policemen…a bartender, a patron, and local known vocalist…left unconscious…no witnesses. The vocal performer from the Civil Theatre was left hanging for dear life from the roof of a church, his shirt caught on an edge," Raoul read aloud, "It says here, 'the victims were stripped of all valuables and coats… left vulnerable to the elements.' Hm, maybe it would be a good time to go to the police now?"

"You know they won't believe me."

"They need leads! Some idea of what they're up against."

"This isn't Paris! Things are done a little differently. And I'm the only one that's seen it without being beaten within an inch of my life. How do you think they're going to react?"

"But you should still try!"

"So they can what? Laugh at me? Or devise a plan to kill it like the ex-commissioner did with Francoeur?," Lucille fumed, "It didn't try to hurt me. That must mean something!"

"This thing might not be like Francoeur. It could be a real monster. It is! Look at what it's done!"

"They exaggerate because they're sca-"

"You saw first hand what it can do! It hurts people." Lucille sighed loudly at that. Raoul sat next to her on the couch, wrapping an arm around her. "Look, you can't protect every lost…creature that comes your way. This one's too dangerous. And it didn't ask for your help, you were just there."

"Fate brought me to Francoeur. He changed our lives for the better."

Raoul was silent for a moment, then asked, "Do our lives need changing right now?"

Lucille thought the question over. No, she felt like her life was where it was supposed to be. But that doesn't mean she could ignore someone who needs help. "How selfish are we to let the creature be hunted down because we don't want to risk what we have? We can at least try."

"…fine. I won't argue with you anymore." Lucille smiled excitedly and hugged the man gently. Raoul sat limp in her hold, feeling dejected and worried. Then he remembered something. "You know, we're gonna need a way to get around town safely…"

"Raoul, no. I know what you're thinking."

"Haha, I bet you don't. You know what I _was_ thinking two days ago."

"You didn't."

"Do you remember that truck we passed on the way out and in yesterday?"

"Are you out of your mind!"

"No, Lucille!" he whined as she proceeded to whack him in the arm, "Ow! Hey, that hurts! Think of it as fate! It brought it to us for monster hunting!"

A few minutes later, poor Lucille sat in the passenger seat of an obnoxiously loud truck that smelled of mold and oil. It was taller than Catherine, but was thinner, not meant for delivering large items. They all sat comfortably in the vehicle, so that was nice. The first step in tracking down the creature was to visit each place the victims were found. Raoul said that finding out what it's after will be key. If it turns out to be something bad, their little investigation will be over.


	10. Whatever It Takes

Chapter 10: Whatever It Takes

It was cloudy and gloomy, but the young woman was happy for the shelter that darkness brings. Her hands were busy weaving a shiny needle in, out, over and under in clean stitches. It was tedious and required patience. How fortunate that she had all the time in the world.

Her legs swung loosely over the side of the small home. She was hidden by the shadow provided by a much larger building next door. The bustle of a busy community gave her peace in her work. By the time the sun had hit its peak in the sky, she was finished tailoring new clothes for herself. The new body, she discovered, was very weak against the weather and the articles of fabric helped fix that. She modeled the designs after those that she had seen other women wear on the streets to blend in if only to throw attention away from herself.

A grumbling sound disturbed the air. She placed her hands over her stomach and heard it again. Food sounds good right about now. Her senses followed a very savory and pleasing smell coming from a store below. Hopefully, she had stolen enough money to pay for it.

…

The man at the bakery was as sweet as the pastries he gifted the girl. She looked so completely lost when she had entered. Her face didn't seem familiar; thus, he guessed she was a traveler from some place so distant every new object made her lose her bearings. It reminded him of his grandkids. He spent about an hour listing his products, sometimes chipping off pieces for her to taste. It was, in a way, entertaining. She seemed to also enjoy her time. Her reactions and responses were strange, but endearing. Sometimes she would even tilt her head like a curious little animal. His heart fell when she decided to leave. He had to return to work in the back, but it was nice to talk to a customer for a while. Talk wouldn't be the right word, because she hadn't said a single one, silent as night. There was another thing he liked about her. She paid generously.

…

The fall of dusk was like a starting point of a transformation. A taking over of her body. First, she felt too light and suffocated. If she stayed in place for too long, she feared floating away. It was ridiculous, but reasoning couldn't stop her legs from moving. They ran until the world blurred into one, endless sea of black and kicked up some more. When the burn in her legs became too unbearable to ignore, she felt anchored enough to slow down.

She halted in place immediately when she looked around her too familiar surroundings. How could her body betray her like this? What is there to gain? Backtracking, she attempted to sprint back down the road, away from her 'hometown'. The ache in her legs wouldn't relent and she soon collapsed in her escape. It was no use either way. There was a familiar scent poisoning the air and the roar of a vehicle closing in on her. She must've been more disoriented than she thought because it sounded like it was coming from in front of her. Like it followed her to the town instead of coming from it. She listened to the sound grow near over the intense beat of her heart as she laid there. It would be futile to run in her exhausted state, but soon it would not be her problem. The corners of her vision blackened as the vehicle pulled up and some figures approached. There was no sound or color in her vision. Just shades of red.

Even when the monster was done, the screams continued to echo through her skull. They bounced down into her bones, shaking the foundation. The screaming souls were trapped inside like she was. Imprisoned in this unnatural creation made by now-possibly-dead-men. She understood now. She was a human girl and a spider filled with toxins corrupting and enhancing both. The combination didn't mix right because it was not done settling. She could see the spider form leaking into the human form. There was a dark blue streak in her hair and red spots in her eyes. With enough concentration, she was able to make those spots disappear. Her eyes were one thing she could slip in and out of forms she guessed. She lifted up her blouse enough to reveal the small appendages hiding beneath. She tried again to move them and they twitched ever so slightly. Her stomach lurched in nausea from the movement. This wasn't something she wanted anymore. Those little limbs should remain useless or, even better, disappear. The humanity recently born in her must remain untainted. The monster and the girl must never meet.


	11. A Monster Meeting

Chapter 11: A Monster Meeting

"I didn't think I would ever hear myself saying this, but, honey, I am tired of driving."

"Hmm, then you shouldn't have bought a new Catherine."

"This isn't a replacement Catherine. She is an entirely new per- ahem, an entirely new vehicle."

"So this one is a girl too?"

"…..would you like to name her? Officially?"

Lucille glared at him then thought better, "How about, uhm, Hildagard?"

"Absolutely not."

"Gertrude?"

"What is she? A nun?"

"I like Heidi."

"As a name or the girl that chased me around the park and broke my toy cars?"

"Hmmm, how about-"

"You know what? Let's name her later. I'll keep driving."

She giggled, "Thank you," and she leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. If she wasn't mistaken, there was a light blush on his face and he concentrated more on the streets.

They explored the town the whole day, but turned up nothing. It was agreed that they would try again the next day. Except there were no more reports in the morning. Nothing in the newspaper that would hint the creature's whereabouts or plans. Lucille figured it was in hiding, but without any clues it would be useless to try to find its location. Searching at night sounded like a better plan. If one ignored the potential danger in that. So all five of them spent the morning re-evaluating the information they got from the newspapers. Maud was the one to notice the uncomfortable pattern in attacks.

"I think it has something against musicians."

The silence that followed would put a cemetery to shame.

"I-In each case, there's one victim left worse than the others: the performers. First, it was the man in the alley with pieces of his own instrument beaten into him. Then, the singer left on the rooftop. And the others were just there at the wrong time and got caught up in the creature's rage."

"Then, shouldn't it have attacked Lucille that night?," Raoul inquired.

"Well, maybe it didn't know who she was."

"Yes," Emile cut in, "the creature caught those men after they left work. Wait," he searched through the stack of newspaper on the table and picked one up, "See, here!," he pointed to an ad, "The second victim sang at the theater house the night of the attack. The thing could've heard him singing from outside and waited for him to come out later. Lucille, you weren't doing any quiet singing or humming were you?"

"No, it was cold and I wanted to get back inside to warm up."

"It makes sense," Emile commented to Maud. Lucille stared blankly at the two, then one side of her mouth curled up into a small smirk.

"Lucille, stop making that face," Raoul warned.

"I'm not doing anything," she replied annoyed.

Francoeur chittered nervously. He recognized that face too.

"Okay! Before you decide to reveal your completely insane plan, I think we should go out for some fun; because, in case anyone forgot, we are here to relax too."

"Yeah!," Emile happily cheered, "Monsters and meetings be darned!"

"Haha, there we go!"

"Uh, but Lucille and Francoeur are scheduled to perform at the theater today," Maud so helpfully reminded, "Did you all forget?"

"Actually, I did not." Lucille had the most pleased grin on her face. It was terrifying.

"Francoeur," she stated sweetly, "We are going to be busy." Francoeur silently groaned and thumped his head on the table. His continuously shot nerves could take little more. He thought life was difficult as a tiny flea. It was much more so as Lucille's friend. He made no attempt to fight or sway her. It would be best to save his energy to protect her from the violent creature.

They went out after the discussion to pick up things for the night. A performance isn't constructed in an hour. No, there was much planning to do. Lucille and Francoeur had the basics of their show planned, but the details needed some fine tuning and they needed some supplies. Good thing they all had the town memorized by now. Except for poor Francoeur.

He was looking at a hat in a window that appealed to him when he realized Lucille was gone. And everyone else. He looked frantically around, but they were nowhere in sight. He ran down the streets in search, almost jumping up on a roof for a better view. That wouldn't go well with the towns people. Emile explained to him things he had to stop doing in public because humans couldn't do them. It would've been easier to just jump up though. He switched to a more leisure pace when he caught sight of Raoul's new truck. Waiting would be boring, but better than becoming even more lost. Still, those gloves in the nearby window are very nice. As long as he stayed within sight of the truck, some more looking couldn't hurt.

Some minutes later, Francoeur heard the distinct sound of tires swerving and a vehicle roaring closer. He turned just in time to witness the new truck be slammed from the back by a small car. Then it rolled down the street.

He flung himself onto the truck in hopes of stopping it. They both then rolled further down until they reached the edge of a hill and plummeted. He gripped the roof of the car with one hand and kept his hat on with the other. Enough attention was on him already, losing his hat right now wouldn't be a good idea. They gained speed and Francoeur was so sure he was going to end up a splattered mess at the bottom of the incline. Instead, someone decided to help the poor soul out.

…

She really needed to take good care of her clothes. It was the third time she had to go buy more thread and material to patch her shirts and skirts. The woman at the store even started asking questions. There had to be another store she could go to. This is what she was looking for when she saw a most peculiar sight. A tall man attached to a car flying down the hill. It didn't seem like they were going to slow down on their own. Not until they hit the building at the end.

It was with an excited leap that she landed on the side and swung the driver door open. She saw many people operate these things, and vaguely remembers stealing one the night she went….home. She slammed hard on what she hoped were the breaks. Her memory held true, because the tires slowed down to a halt with an ear tearing screech. Unfortunately, the brakes didn't work for the man on the roof.

…

Francoeur was thrown forward at a concerning speed. He squeezed his eyes shut for the impact and let out a loud hiss when he hit the solid ground. Something must have broken. There goes the show. He kept his eyes shut until he felt a shadow hovering over him and peeked them open. A truly beautiful sight greeted him. It was a woman wearing a royal blue dress with black hair and an angular face. She had high cheekbones and red lips as dark as dying roses. Her eyes were a magnificent gold. And they were staring intensely at him. Not just at him, but at his neck. He realized too late that his scarf had loosened and uncovered part of his face. He froze in fear and did nothing as she peered closer, lifting her hand to his scarf. Time slowed down as she pulled it down, and he prepared for a scream that did not come. Her eyes widened and she tilted her head in a familiar sign. She showed no fear or disgust and it only served to confuse him. Why was she not horrified?

"Francoeur!"

The woman looked toward the source of the voice then back to him before returning the scarf to its place and stepping away. She lingered by his side until his friends reached them. He looked to Lucille running down the street and back. The woman had a weary look in her features. She hid it well after a quick shake of the head.

"Are you hurt? Show me where if you are." Lucille took control of things so fast and effectively. He always admired that about her. He let Raoul and Emile lift him to his feet then indicated that he was not injured. It wasn't until Francoeur glanced at the woman a few times before they all noticed she was there. Her smile revealed gleaming white teeth that were a smidge off in alignment, on the verge of being jagged. He thought nothing of it and waved at her nervously.

"Oh, uhm, hi," Emile waved at her as well.

"Can you tell me what happened?," Lucille asked hopefully. She would worry over her friend until she knew exactly what he went through during the time that they had lost him. He certainly wouldn't be able to tell her.

"The car," was all she said. She motioned with her hands that it went down the hill and that she had stopped it while Francoeur fell off. It made her look like a street mime.

"Wh-"

"Wait, why was my truck going down the street?" Raoul looked around and saw the indent the other car made on the back. "Ahhh! No! And I got this like four days ago." He continued to whine, so Lucille promptly elbowed him in the gut to quiet him down. It worked, a little bit. The woman watched and chuckled to herself. When all eyes were back on her, she waved weakly because she felt unsure of what to do and turned to walk away. Francoeur reached a hand out to her, but only managed to brush her arm. Maud followed after her.

"Miss? Wait! Are you okay? We'd like to talk to you, and thank-" upon turning a building corner, Maud found herself talking to the air. The woman was gone.


	12. A Mermaid in a Bird Cage

Chapter 12: A Mermaid in a Bird Cage

She dashed from shadow to shadow, roof to roof, following the group of five. What a magnificent being. She certainly had never seen a creature like this Francoeur, nor could she understand how he came to be among the humans. To have _friends_, while in such a state. So far, humans seemed to appall and feel intimidated by monsters like her. How was this one different? How can he…control it?

The woman remained unseen from her position in an alley while the group returned to the inn. She wanted desperately to go inside and find Francoeur, to talk privately with him, but didn't want to explain herself in case she was caught. No humans would understand the plight of a lost creature.

It was hours later before anyone left the building. Her hopes deflated when she saw it was the tall, whining man and shorter gentleman.

"I don't know about this," the dwarf shared nervously.

"Relax, buddy. It's not like you have to come up with something tonight. It would be nice if you did, but I'm not complaining."

"Still."

"Look, we're going to have a good time, to see the GRE-E-A-T F-A-US-IN-O-O-O!" He spread his arms wide and lifted them up in mock grandeur before quickly bringing them down. "The MASTER of MIRA-A-A-GE!" He shook his hand for emphasis. The young woman watching close by couldn't help but be intrigued by his performance. "If inspirations strikes, good. If it doesn't, then we'll keep searching."

"Hm…I am curious as to what a magician's show looks like in person."

"Yeah! Watch, AND BE AMAZED with your own two eyes! Not the screen of your projector." He playfully slapped Emile on his arm.

"Then….let's go! Or we'll be late and have to sit in the back."

"Your wish is my command, sir!"

The men ran to the dented truck and sped off. The master of mirage? The girl thought to herself. This Great Fausino is a magician, but what is that and how is it amazing? Again, questions burned inside her head, and she wanted to put them out. It would be much easier, anyway, to follow these men from a distance than to get to Francoeur when he was inside, with those two women no doubt. And this investigation felt more exciting.

…

"Amazing!" The young woman cheered from the high beams of the building. She found an unlocked window in the high attic and made her way to the stage area, hidden high above the audience where none would suspect.

The tanned, well groomed man on stage captivated her with each device he brought on stage and his ability to slip out of any confines. She was awed by the cage that made a tiny bird disappear. It brought her great delight when the bird then flew out of Fausino's hands, because she had been worried that it was gone forever; but, perhaps, it went to a place better than here.

…

"Raoul! Be quiet!"

"But it's so obvious how he does it! He-"

"He's coming this way…"

"Calm down."

"Saying that never calms me down, especially from you."

Fausino greeted them with a suave smile, wiping his fingers on his oiled mustache before speaking, "Gentlemen, how would you like to join me on stage?"

"Uhm…"

"Why, I thought you would never ask." Raoul stood up and pulled his jacket down swiftly. He followed the magician to the stage, his chin held high, ready for whatever Fausino threw at him. He was still unprepared when a gorgeous woman came crashing into him from behind the curtains. "Oomph!" She was dressed in a constricting skirt, with sequins adorning all around, and a blouse that resembled seaweed

"Oh, dear. It seems that my assistant lost her way to the sea." The crowd laughed with the magician. "_Mi sirena_, follow the other foul stench on stage." The audience laughed again while Raoul let out an undignified sound. Fausino pulled the curtain back to reveal a large water container hanging from the ceiling, connected to chains and a series of ropes.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, my partner will demonstrate the true skills of our art. Young man, will you help me restrain her?" The two wrapped her in the rope and tied her hands together. With a tug, Raoul was satisfied with his handy work and stepped away. Fausino grabbed the chain and connected it to a device that cranked loudly.

"For those of you sitting up front, it may be wise to move," the performer said while looking up at the water trap in the ceiling that started to sway back and forth when the chain was connected. Fausino pulled a lever and the woman began her act. The chain rang as it was pulled oh so slowly back. Most of the ropes were removed easily by the woman, except for one that kept her right hand secured to the rope. Fausino's partner looked pleadingly to Raoul, who couldn't resist running up to her to help. At the last moment, she quickly slipped out of the knot and ran off, leaving Raoul under the trap. The water was set free and it soaked the confused man down to the soles of his shoes. The audience cheered and laughed heartily at the sight. The escape artist approached Raoul,

"Learn to tie a proper knot," was all she said before leading him backstage to get dry. From onstage, the magician had a smug look on his face and he continued his show.

…

Her lungs protested against the abundant laughing she was doing. What a truly amazing show this turned out to be. Unfortunately, it was cut short for her. Some of the men in the audience heard her up in the air and they alerted the stage hands. They tried to catch her, but she was too light in a mood to let her fun end so soon. She swiftly swung across onto a ledge out of their reach and dashed to the curtains. The magician was entertained, so he let her be. There wasn't much damage she could do exploring backstage. His secrets were locked away from prying eyes.

A long tablecloth hung off a rack, one Fausino used to make a ball levitate in the air. She tried using it to make an orange float, but she couldn't figure it out. With a shrug, she returned the items to their place. Mentally, she catalogued all the strange things she found, some she recognized and others that remained mysterious. There was the distant sound of applause echoing around the building that made her smile. It was a small comfort, feeling as though the people were cheering for her. It felt like acceptance.

_Squish, squish, squish_. There was a strange sound coming from down the hall, near the dressing rooms. There was a trail of water leading there too. Oh, that whiny man is back here. She waited outside of the rooms, crouching down on a beam for the roof. There was a better view up here. And she wanted to be stealthy.

The cloud haired man stepped out minutes later with the escapist. The _sirena_ woman. She really was beautiful with long brown hair that shone like silk. Her eyes had a kind, but mischievous glint to them when she looked at the man. She practically radiated pride.

"Thanks for the towels," Raoul mumbled from underneath the fabric.

"It was the least we could do…and you presented a slipping hazard."

"Couldn't have that could you?"

"I care about those that are respectful to us, so yes."

It was curious how the man refused to meet her gaze. He sighed quietly, reluctant to continue the conversation. The woman turned to leave, not planning to wait for him, but he spoke up before she could leave.

"I'm sorry." He lifted his head to try to catch her expression, but she didn't turn around. He continued, "You both were great, I enjoyed the show, but it-it wasn't…it didn't help like I had hoped it would."

"Trying to distract yourself from something?"

"Well, okay, yes, but I was also looking for inspiration. I'm an inventor, you see, and I haven't been able to make my ideas into reality. I feel like I've lost my touch, the…the connection that links me to my passion."

"And magic is like a window through the forces of the universe, where for a moment you believe in the impossible, and leave it to that…it can make a man do incredible things."

"I used to believe I could do incredible things. Now, I'm not so sure."

The woman silently turned around to face him, her face contorted from a grimace to a frown, then she set her mouth into a thin line. His story was no stranger to her, for she had lived it many years ago. She spoke gently to him, "If it means anything, no one's ever been able to figure out Fau's tricks just from watching in the audience. There's been plenty of competitors that would try, but they'd usually have to see his contraptions up close to understand."

"I'm probably wrong then."

"Oh really? Hm. There's one way to find out." She took his hand in hers and lead him to another room. The woman in the rafters followed suit, hanging upside down by the doorway to peak inside. She hung onto her hair so that it wouldn't swing too far in and expose her. The two humans were tinkering with the small machines the magician had on stage, using terms she never heard before. The more contraptions they viewed, the more the man seemed to brighten up, and the woman did too. The scene was light and tranquil…_the perfect picture of serenity_. The _serene sirena_. Beautiful words, slipped right off the tongue. Serene. Sirena. Serene. Sirena. Her body began to swing to her mantra, hands releasing the hold on her hair. She lifted herself up, jumping across the wooden supports with grace and landing on the ground softly before bursting back up. There was energy surging under the surface of her skin, trying to break away, but she didn't feel the need to run. No, she felt content in her actions, floating through the air like the birds in the sky.

The applause in the background elevated, then ceased. She paid no mind to the sound of footsteps approaching until a voice permeated her ears.

"Never in all my days have I seen someone with such life in her movements." Fausino smiled at her and extended his hand as an invite to join him on the ground. She paused to shake his hand, but proceeded to fly across his head. On her way, she snatched the cap on his head and placed it upon hers. He grinned at her antics.

"You have good taste, but I'm going to need that back. My wife will be livid if I lose another hat." The woman lowered herself down enough for him to reach the hat, messing his hair while he removed it from her.

"Troublesome little sprite."

"No," she sang, "I'm Serena."

Fau laughed and shook his head at her, "Pleasure to meet you, Serena." The woman stopped again to review her words. She didn't realize what she had said until he repeated it. Thinking it over, she accepted the name, it being the two beautiful words she adored. She hung herself upside down again, using her legs to hang onto the wooden beam. Fau seemed distracted.

The magician looked around and spotted his assistant with the rude man, in the room of his inventions.

"Caroline! What are you doing?"

"Testing the man's theories about your magic."

"How da-"

"If he could learn your tricks from twenty feet away, then that means you're not hiding your secrets well enough."

"I-"

"He explained in explicit detail how each and every prop you presented worked without me even bringing it out."

"I don't understand the escaping acts," Raoul added in fear of causing trouble for the woman. " That's still a wonder to me. I loved the show, but I've had a rough couple of days. Travel restlessness."

Fausino was silent before his face burst into a wide smile. He was a very forgiving man. The three conversed about the show, finding areas that needed improvement and those that needed no adjustments. Eventually, Serena stepped into the room and approached the bird cage. No one noticed her, until the cage snapped and collapsed under her curious hands. She gasped at the sight, her mind slowly coming to a horrifying conclusion. Fau tried to make up an explanation, seeing the panic in her eyes. He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but she couldn't feel it. Numbness was capturing her body, her hands shook slightly as she stared down at the metal wires. Everyone froze once she spoke.

"So it did go to a place better than here." There was shouting as she fled, and it shook her to the core, but not enough so to cripple her flight response. Her feet remained rooted to the ground when she ran onto the stage, down the aisles, and out the exit. There was no light feeling dizzying her head. No weightlessness. No serenity. Only the burning in her legs.


End file.
